


Lay Me With You

by waywardrenegade



Series: See Where We Land [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Rare Pairings, Sorry Not Sorry, goalie love, i really just wanted to write sleepy cuddles okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrenegade/pseuds/waywardrenegade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the dim light filtering in through filmy curtains, Corey can see Marc sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the king sized bed. He’s wearing a black wife beater and boxers; the silvery moonlight patterning his thin shoulders makes Corey’s breath catch in his throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Me With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kindofdanceit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindofdanceit/gifts).



> Set in vaguely the same 'verse as "Baby, Won't You Stay Awhile?", but it's not necessary to have read it first. Here Marc and Corey are on vacation in the off season with some of their teammates, just fyi since it's not obvious.
> 
> Title comes from Matt Duke's "Lay", which basically set the whole tone for this. (If you haven't heard of him before, please do yourself a favor and go listen. He's a delight.) As always, con crit is welcomed and encouraged. :))

Corey's late coming back, staggering a bit, and breath tinged with the unmistakable scent of the tequila shots he'd let Shawzy talk him into. He tries to be quiet, figuring Marc’s probably fallen asleep waiting for him, so he pulls the door shut behind him with a gentle thud. He’s rather proud that he only trips once, over Marc’s shoes of course, and utters a low, “Fuck” considering the hotel room is pitch black.

Sliding a hand along the wall for guidance, Corey manages to find the tiny bathroom without flipping on the lights. He strips down to his boxer briefs, leaving clothes strewn on the floor carelessly, and then splashes cold water on his face, making sure to cup some to his mouth and swish away the sour tang of booze.

With the dim light filtering in through filmy curtains, Corey can see Marc sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the king sized bed. He’s wearing a black wife beater and boxers; the moon's light patterning his thin shoulders makes Corey’s breath catch in his throat. Marc’s dark hair is summer long, feathered down the back of his neck appealingly.

As gracefully as he can manage, Corey stretches out beside him, trying his hardest not to wake Marc. Corey’s a little buzzed, Marc’s sleep warm skin is right there, dappled in silvery moonlight, and he’s weak when it comes to temptation. He lowers his lips to Marc’s skin and drops open mouthed kisses along the vertebrae peeking above the neckline.

Marc, still peaceful in sleep, subconsciously shifts into him, his breathing speeding up a fraction. Corey can’t, though he hasn't tried very hard, or at all really, stop his hands from snaking under Marc’s threadbare shirt, fingers stroking over his ribs in response.

After a few moments, Marc stirs, rolling onto his side to face Corey, hair matted and blanket creases etched into his pinkened cheeks.

“Hi, babe,” Marc says sleepily, smiling easily up at Corey, his affection clearly on display.

“Hey there, handsome,” whispers Corey fondly as he leans down to capture Marc’s lips, unable to resist.

They make out lazily for what feels like forever, time all syrupy and slow in the twilight hours of the night, but is really only a few minutes. Marc doesn't ask where Corey’s been, and Corey doesn't tell him. They both know what’s important is that he’s here now, pressed against Marc in a way that holds an unspoken promise of a future together.

Corey falls asleep to the sound of Marc’s relaxed breathing, his heartbeat a lullaby, fingers resting just under the waistband of Marc’s boxers.

 


End file.
